


Eight Thousand, Seven Hundred, and Sixty

by raincallsx



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Darillium (Doctor Who), F/M, Gentle Kissing, Relationship Study, Smooching, fluff with a touch of angst, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raincallsx/pseuds/raincallsx
Summary: Quote is by Madeline Miller.These two deserve all the soft moments and I must supply >:)
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Eight Thousand, Seven Hundred, and Sixty

A warm breeze blew through the air, gently stirring up River’s curls and the skirt of her dress. The room was lit only by candles at the moment, she knew there was electricity here, but the warm orange glow of dozens of candles burning in the dark made the space feel more small, more romantic. The little lights cast shadows of all shapes and sizes over the walls of the bedroom. 

They had just come from dinner. It was the best date she had ever had. Somehow every last thing fell into place to the point where there was nothing between them but the soft hum of love and adoration. One night on Darillium. Twenty Four years for her. Eight thousand, seven hundred, and sixty nights for them to just… be. He promised to stay with her, and she knew he meant it.

He had surprised her after dinner, after the soft words and bittersweet memories were passed back and forth between them until there was nothing left to share and the champagne was all gone.The Doctor had gotten them a little cottage, some place to stay and call home for a little while, insisting that she deserved to know what it was like. Besides, the TARDIS was right there if they chose to stay on board there for a while.

A four poster bed sat in the center of the back wall of the bedroom before her, made to perfection. A vase of sunflowers sat one one of the night tables. She heard the soft click of a door shutting behind her, taking her from her thoughts.

River let out a breath and turned around, facing him once again. The Doctor was smiling at her, actually smiling. It looked good on him, though, she supposed most things would.

“How do you like it?” came his soft voice.

“It's perfect.” she breathed, still in a bit of awe that any of this was happening.

She let the wrap from her shoulders fall to her forearms before draping it over the side of a chair that was tucked into a desk. 

“Doctor, you don't have to... “ she turned to find him standing only a few inches before her. Giving a sad smile, she met his eyes for a moment before they drifted to examine the walls and the bit of the room she could see. She was quite sure that she may burst into tears if she stayed looking at him much longer. “You don't have to stay with me. You've never liked sitting in one spot too long, and as much as I would love for you to stay with me, I won't make you. You know I-”

She cut herself off with a soft inhale when she felt fingers touch beneath her chin. Weathered hands, steady, and calculated in their movements. His fingers curled under her chin, guiding her to look at him. She opened her mouth to speak once more, but no words came out. Instead, the Doctor gently rested his thumb over her bottom lip. This made her eyes flutter shut and her shoulders to sag as she let out a breath.

Her hearts were spiraling. She was in complete free fall. River was always so sure about him, so sure that her perceptions were concrete and that she knew him in and out. This was completely unexpected, though. Domesticity was never something she was familiar with, especially not aimed towards herself. She felt as if she didn't know whether to burst into tears, or if she should laugh in incredulity at it all, or what the appropriate response should be in this situation.

“River,” the Doctor spoke softly, causing her to open her eyes and look at him, “I want to stay with you. I choose you, every time. I always will.”

River smiled then, pain and fear melting from her face. She focused on the warmth between them, the love, the quiet understanding that they had to take the time they were given, because she wouldn't get it back.

She lifted her chin and leaned forward then, because of course it was her, it was always her to make the first move. She kissed him then,eyes closing once more as did his, her hands resting one on his waist and the other carefully on his shoulder. The hand that had been beneath her chin glided to cradle the back of her head as his other arm wrapped around her lower back to pull her closer.

Kissing this version of him was spectacular. It felt as it always did, warm and caring with the same taste on his lips that she had grown accustomed to in his last regeneration. But, there was something different there, too. He was more steadfast, less nervous and dithering that she had known before. 

Whatever had been between them before, call it agape or ludus or pragma, felt deeper now. Amplified time and time again until all she felt wash over her was love. The feeling was so overwhelming, she could have cried. And, maybe she did. If she had started to, neither of them said anything about it.

She pulled away, taking a breath before her head laid on his shoulder and her nose was pressed into the crook of her neck. He held her close, letting her steady herself for as long as it took. The beginning of the end, they knew that. Knowing was never easy. Never had been, and never would be.

River pulled away a while later as she felt herself settle back into composure. With a deep breath, she smiled at him. She decided somewhere in the back of her head that she liked steadfast. It felt much better than being unsure, as she had tended to find herself feeling when it came to their relationship many times before. 

“You mentioned something about a new wardrobe?”

“I did,” he laughed softly.

“Well, I think that means I must go check it out. Get settled in, not that I have much to unpack.” She winked, drawing away, and letting the night continue on as it must. 

In the candle-lit room they spent the first night, their soft laughs reverberating off the walls and conversations carrying on and on until they had both fallen asleep in the (very comfortable and warm) bed. One night gone by.

Eight thousand, seven hundred, and fifty nine nights left.

  
  
  


_ I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the Earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world. _

**Author's Note:**

> Quote is by Madeline Miller.  
> These two deserve all the soft moments and I must supply >:)


End file.
